BCN-SEOUL Late that night in her room, Sara donned her headphones and stared at her laptop, as she waited for the video call to connect.
On the other end of the call, Nari appeared, her hair slightly tousled, her expression soft with sleep, dressed in pajamas.
‘Hola, Dalí,’ Sara greeted in cheerful Spanish, her voice ringing.
‘Hola, Ramyeon,’ Nari replied through a sleepy laugh, she stifled a yawn.
Switching back to Korean, Sara corrected herself.
‘Maybe I should say it better—BUENOS DÍAS.’ Their conversation flowed with the ease of a river, shifting between Spanish and Korean.
‘Yes, it’s 6:30 in the morning here,’ Nari said, yawning again.
‘I’m sorry!’ Sara said quickly.
‘With my work schedule, this was the only time I could talk.’ ‘It’s okay,’ Nari reassured her.
‘I usually wake up early, just not this early.’ Sara’s guilt was evident.
‘I’ll make it up to you.
Saturday, I can talk at a time that works better for you.’ ‘I won’t be able to this Saturday,’ Nari said apologetically.
Sara nodded, holding up a pair of tickets.
‘I’m going to a Barcelona match with my father.
Do you like football?’ ‘I like it a bit,’ Nari replied.
‘My brother is a huge fan—he watches all the big matches.’ ‘Ah, he could’ve been like Ahn Jung-hwan,’ Sara said with a grin.
‘Do you remember him?’ ‘Of course,’ Nari said, her eyes lighting up.
Sara remembers the time lived in Italy with great affection.
When the national soccer team plays against another country, the entire nation seems to come to a standstill.
It’s more than just a match; it’s a collective ritual, a celebration of unity, and an excuse for families and friends to gather.
In homes across the country, the living room transforms into a theater —a place where joy, tension, and camaraderie intermingle.
Preparations begin hours, sometimes days, before the match.
Tables are set with snacks, drinks, and the inevitable bowls of olives, chips, and cured meats.
The TV, often the largest screen in the house, becomes the focal point, its position adjusted for the best viewing angles.
The chatter builds into a crescendo of predictions and banter, only to hush the moment the national anthem begins.
Everyone stands, singing along with pride that feels almost tangible although few of them understand what those words mean.
Throughout the game, the living room becomes a microcosm of the stadium itself.
There are shouts of encouragement, bursts of applause, and occasional groans of frustration.
Swear words are not lacking.
The cheers when Italy scores echo through the streets, joined by the celebratory honks of cars outside.
Even those who claim not to care about football find themselves swept up in the fervor.
This tradition is not just about the sport; it’s about the sense of belonging it fosters.
Children sit cross-legged on the floor, absorbing the passion of their elders.
Grandparents recount tales of legendary matches from decades past, their voices tinged with nostalgia.
Sara’s expression turned wistful remembering those times.
‘There’s a story in my family about him.
It was 2002, during the World Cup.
We were still in Italy, and when Ahn Jung-hwan scored the golden goal that eliminated Italy…’ She chuckled at the memory.
‘The party we were attending turned into a funeral.
We were the only Koreans there.
My dad kept apologizing, but when we got home, he opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate.’ Nari smiled warmly, imagining the scene.
‘It was a big celebration in Korea too.’ Sara’s tone softened.
‘It’s one of my favorite memories.
My mom was still with us then.’ There was a brief pause before Nari asked, ‘Why do you want to do a language exchange?
You speak Korean perfectly.’ Sara hesitated, her voice thoughtful.
‘I don’t know.
I guess I wanted to build a bridge with Korea.
And I didn’t think I’d find someone like you.’ Nari blushed slightly.
‘I think I’ve been lucky too.
Was I the first person you contacted?’ ‘No,’ Sara admitted.
‘There was a high school student who thought I was a teacher.
I had to explain that I wasn’t looking for that.’ ‘And you?’ Sara asked.
‘Why Spanish?’ ‘I’ve always liked it,’ Nari said.
‘Plus, I’m overseeing an exhibition with Spanish artists.
I think I should at least understand what they’re saying.’ Sara grinned.
‘Claro.’ In every video call, their connection grew stronger, like a carpet thread woven tighter with every conversation.
… SEOUL The annual ritual to meet for eating to an elegant Japanese restaurant was more than just a casual meeting for Kim Jin-na and Nam Ji-yeon; it was a carefully preserved tradition, a clock moved back to revisit a part of themselves that felt increasingly distant.
Once a year, they gathered to remember not just the old days but the emotions and the essence of their youth—an era defined by its unburdened freedom, where decisions came easily and instinctively, unclouded by the responsibilities that now defined their lives.
It was a way to reconnect with who they had been, to recall the exhilarating simplicity of feeling a connection with a man sparked by a mere glance, without the layers of cautious, overly thought-out conversations that now characterized their interactions.
Back then, they were untethered by obligations, free to chase fleeting passions and make choices that didn’t require careful weighing of risks.
The recklessness of youth, once a hallmark of their identity, had been replaced by the heavy considerations of family and stability.
For Jin-na and Ji-yeon, this meeting was a reminder that they had once been able to live spontaneously, to follow their hearts without overthinking, and to embrace life with a boldness that felt almost alien in their current lives.
Beneath the warm glow of paper lanterns, the two women sat across from each other, savoring the delicate flavors of their meal.
‘This fish,’ Jin-na murmured, savoring a bite that seemed to dissolve on her tongue, ‘is extraordinary.’ Ji-yeon, ever the keeper of their youthful escapades, leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.
‘Do you remember the one we ate near the Tokyo market?’ Jin-na laughed softly, her voice carrying the faint trace of years past.
‘How could I forget?
Hungover as I was, you dragged me from the disco straight to the market at dawn.
You swore that fish was the cure.’ ‘And did it work?’ Ji-yeon pressed, her tone tinged with mock indignation.
‘Did it banish the hangover?’ They laughed together.
‘Those were the times,’ Jin-na sighed, her eyes glistening with nostalgia.
‘No responsibilities, no children.
Everything felt…
simpler.’ ‘I’d love to be twenty again,’ Ji-yeon said dreamily.
‘To relive it all?’ Jin-na asked, her voice a little doubtful.
‘Even the mistakes?’ ‘Yes,’ Ji-yeon replied firmly.
‘Without the mistakes and disappointments, how could we appreciate the good parts?’ For a moment, they were lost, the silences between them speaking of adventures and heartbreaks, of conquests and regrets.
The restaurant seemed to shrink, holding them in an envelope of memory.
Breaking the spell, Ji-yeon spoke again.
‘Do you know that Nari already wrote to my son?’ Jin-na’s brows arched in surprise.
‘Nari didn’t mention anything to me.’ ‘They’ve agreed to meet for coffee on Saturday,’ Ji-yeon said, a smile curving her lips, sly as a fox’s.
Jin-na straightened, pride flickering in her eyes.
‘Nari’s a good girl.
Even though she doesn’t always share things with me, she usually listens to my advice.’ ‘You’re a manipulator,’ Ji-yeon teased.
Feigning innocence, Jin-na laughed.
‘Me?
Nooo.’ Ji-yeon chuckled, savoring her turn to confess.
‘With Eu-jin, I’ll have to apply reverse psychology.’ ‘Reverse psychology?’ Jin-na’s curiosity was piqued.
Ji-yeon leaned in, her words a murmur, as though sharing an unspeakable secret.
‘If I push him towards Nari, he’ll resist just to contradict me.
But if I suggest he look for someone else—someone prettier, smarter, more suitable— he’ll realize how special Nari is on his own.’ Jin-na, ever the mother lion, bristled.
‘But who’s better than Nari?
She’s shy and a bit insecure, sure, but she’s charming, cultured, refined, and smart.’ ‘Exactly,’ Ji-yeon said with a patient smile.
‘You know it.
I know it.
Now, Eu-jin must know it.
And he’ll value her more if he feels it was his own discovery.’ Jin-na nodded.
‘So, it’s a challenge?’ ‘A challenge,’ Ji-yeon echoed brimming with certainty, ‘against his own mother.’ Jin-na laughed, a sound that rippled through the restaurant.
‘And you called me manipulative?’ ‘This isn’t manipulation,’ Ji-yeon declared with mock indignation.
‘It’s strategy.
You should read more psychology books.’ ‘Strategy,’ Jin-na repeated, took a sip of her sake.
‘Reverse psychology…
It sounds like manipulation, just more twisted.’ … For Choi Eu-jin the decision to come back to Korea had not been simple.
He had argued with himself for weeks, since when he received the job offer weighed the pros and cons.
For more than ten years, the United States had been his home, the place where he had built his education, earned respect, and lived a life of quiet independence.
The medical research laboratories where he had worked prided on his rigor, and he had thrived in this results-driven environment.
However, returning to Korea had been a constant tug in the back of his mind, a nagging voice he’d tried to ignore.
He loved the methodical approach of American medical investigations, the way research was treated with respect.
Yet, something had always been missing—a sense of belonging, his roots and his family.
Would he find the same passion for research in Korea?
Would he find his place in a country so changed?
He wasn’t sure.
What he was sure of was that he would have to start many things from scratch.
The thought of beginning again was both terrifying and exciting.
His parents pride bolstered him, filling the cracks of his doubt.
Returning with the results of their faith in his success felt like a victory, one he wanted to share with them.
In his first day at the Seoul University Hospital, Choi Eu-jin walked briskly, his gray coat flowing behind him, his stride purposeful.
At 31, he carried the air of a man who had earned his place in the world, a consolidated position in oncological research.
In the hospital director’s office, Eu-jin shook hands with the man who had long championed his return.
‘Welcome!
I’ve been expecting you,’ the director greeted warmly.
‘Thank you.
It’s good to be here,’ Eu-jin replied, his expression calm.
The director studied him for a moment, as though weighing the years of experience Eu-jin had brought back from across the ocean.
‘It wasn’t easy convincing you to return.’ Eu-jin nodded.
‘It wasn’t an easy decision,’ Eu-jin admitted.
‘My life in the U.S.
was well-established.’ ‘And yet here you are,’ the director said, his tone heavy with meaning.
‘Korea has lost so many brilliant minds, especially in biomedical research, to the lure of foreign lands.
Everyone chases the dream of a Nobel Prize.’ ‘But Life here is better,’ Eu-jin said simply, his words carrying the weight of a personal truth.
The director’s grin widened.
‘Exactly.
Plus, your family is here.’ ‘That’s part of why I returned,’ Eu-jin admitted.
‘My parents are getting older.
I want to spend time with them…
and give them the chance to enjoy grandchildren.’ ‘Grandchildren?’ The director raised an eyebrow.
‘I thought you were single.’ Eu-jin smiled faintly.
‘I am.
But at 31, it’s time to start thinking about it.’ ‘Well, I hope you’ve returned with the same passion for advancing oncology,’ the director said, leaning forward.
‘Absolutely.
I’ve reviewed your recent publications.
They’re impressive.’ The director’s pride was evident.
‘We’ve got projects across all phases—one through three—and funding isn’t a concern.
I trust your expertise will make a significant impact.’ Eu-jin’s humility shone through as he replied, ‘That’s a heavy expectation.
I’ll do my best.’ ‘I’m sure you will,’ the director said, gesturing towards the door.
‘Let me show you your teams.’ ‘How many teams are there?’ Eu-jin asked, curious.
The director smiled enigmatically.
‘All of them.
You’ll be overseeing every oncological project.
That frees me to focus on management and…
perhaps like you, think about starting a family.’ Eu-jin chuckled, shaking his head.
‘You’ve already planned my life for me.’ As they exited the office, Eu-jin felt a flicker of excitement.
This wasn’t just a return to his homeland; he envisioned a new chapter in his life with not just a professional growing but personal.